May 25, 2025
In 1980, five Black women were injured in a drive-by shooting carried out by local Klansmen in Chattanooga, TN. Two years later, these women filed a civil lawsuit against the Klansmen — and won. The case set a nationwide legal precedent for combating crimes motivated by hate, but for years, the story of the Chattanooga Five was known only to a portion of the local community. Now, thanks to the award-winning documentary short How to Sue the Klan, lawyers, educators, advocates and community organizers across the country can be inspired by the remarkable story of the Chattanooga Five.
On the evening of April 19, 1980, Viola Ellison, Lela Evans, Opal Jackson and Katherine Johnson had stepped out of a nightclub on 9th Street and were waiting for a taxi when Klansmen drove by and opened fire. A fifth woman, Fannie Mae Crumsey, was injured by shattered glass as the shooters continued up the street. The criminal case that followed was considered a failure by the affected community; the all-white jury acquitted two of the Klansmen, while the third was sentenced to only nine months in jail.
Archival Photo of Katherine Johnson
When co-producer Tiffany Herron first began researching the story of the Chattanooga Five, she had no idea this pursuit would one day develop into a film. At the time, she was a graduate student at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga and thought the story might be shared in a student literary magazine.
“It was one of those stories I couldn’t stop thinking about,” she shared. “So during the course of my master’s degree, I did a little bit more digging and a little bit more research, and it just got bigger and bigger and bigger.”
Tiffany first learned about the Chattanooga Five on “The People’s History of Chattanooga” walking tour of 9th Street (which has since been renamed Martin Luther King Boulevard). Today, MLK Boulevard jauntily bisects the city center, featuring diverse eateries and colorful murals celebrating legends of the historically Black neighborhood. After decades of urban renewal, the fabric of the neighborhood has changed, but community members who walk the familiar streets still carry its stories.
“There were a lot of stories that actually happened on that street,” Tiffany recalled of the walking tour. “But the very last place we stopped and talked, our tour guide talked about how the women were shot and the case that followed. And I’m looking at the other students in my class — like, I remember 1980. I was very shocked to hear that date.”
The unrest and riots that followed the shooting drew the attention of attorney Randolph McLaughlin, who worked for the Center for Constitutional Rights in New York City. McLaughlin and his legal team decided to advocate for these injured women in federal civil court based on a Reconstruction-era law called the “1871 Ku Klux Klan Enforcement Act.” Their success meant that the women were not only awarded today’s equivalent of $1.5 million, but also that an injunction was issued against all Klan-associated violence in the city.
Attorney Betty Lawrence Lewis
Attorney Ben Crump
Featuring interviews from family members, Randolph McLaughlin and co-counsel Betty Lawrence Lewis, civil rights attorney Ben Crump and other voices, How to Sue the Klan imparts this story to uplift the courageous actions of the Chattanooga Five while also creating an educational tool for continued legal advocacy.
“One of our tangible goals has been to actually give lawyers and law students the knowledge of this precedent and case information so they can literally use it against white supremacists,” shared John Beder, Emmy-nominated director of the film. “Which, amazingly, has actually happened.”
John discovered the Chattanooga Five via a Facebook post in 2019, and shortly thereafter, was connected with Tiffany. Conversations about the project unfolded in the midst of pandemic lockdowns, with brainstorming sessions held six feet apart on park benches and café tables.
“I said, let’s see what happens, and if a few hundred kids in Chattanooga see the film, great!” Tiffany said. “And now it has won award after award all over the country .”
Even within the Chattanooga community, many audiences are connecting with this story for the first time. “There was no Internet, there was no 24-hour news cycle, no YouTube vloggers to pick up the story. In 1980, a story you heard on the radio might be followed up in the newspaper weeks or even months later, but the thread was lost more often than not.” That’s Rita L. Hubbard, local historian and author who contributed to the project. “Working on this film has added to my own personal body of work involving African American achievements and contributions to the greater Chattanooga area that were once forgotten, overlooked, undervalued or swept under the rug,” she said. “It’s my hope that uncovering these contributions and weaving them into the history we already know will continue to bring our entire community together.”
While the 80s were not so long ago, the task of uncovering documentation of the civil case was in some ways monumental. “To this day, it shocks me how little we could find,” John said.
“It’s truly amazing what we could uncover. We were literally looking through boxes of negatives that were unorganized, sorting one by one, holding them up to the light, going, ‘What’s in this picture?’”
Alongside unearthing articles, photos and legal transcriptions, a crucial element of developing the film was establishing trust with the affected community. “Being in touch with who you are as a creator and trying to tell someone else’s story can be sensitive,” Tiffany said. “[This project] felt personal to me, and with that, you respect the relationships and connections you make. I wanted to make sure that whatever I wrote, whatever came out of it, I did right by them.”
John added: “We spent a lot of time saying, ‘Can we just talk about this? Can we just understand what happened with no expectation of you participating or handing over any photographs?’ And over time, we built up trust with all of the families that we weren’t trying to take a story from someone and hand it to someone else, but really just educate people to this giant piece of history that we should be proud of in Chattanooga.”
Attorney Randolph McLaughlin, in the documentary and at the time of the historic trial.
Stories, particularly those about marginalized communities, don’t survive by accident. “Being asked to research the story not only allowed me to answer questions that were never answered way back when, but I also got to marvel at the fact that I was a part of history and hadn’t even known it at the time,” Rita reflected. “Strange as it may seem, it brought closure for me. I was traumatized when I heard the story in 1980. There I was, a twenty-something first-time mother of a tiny African American son, and I was wondering if the world would ever be safe for my son, or for any African American.”
The documentary tone is pensive and sensitive to the traumatic event, drawing connections between the events of the 80s and the current day. Woven through the retelling, however, is a message of empowerment. As a filmmaker, John’s goal is to incorporate activism into his work. “We want that very same thing to happen with our film — for people to see it and not necessarily feel like they need to go out and sue the Klan, but to feel like ordinary people can take action to slow this, to stop it, to replace it with hope instead of fear and anger,” he said. “Those are ambitious things for all films, but this one feels like it’s possible.”
Now, after forty years, the legacy of the Chattanooga Five is accessible to a mainstream audience. In addition to 40 official selections at film festivals around the country, How to Sue the Klan qualified for the Academy Awards, was nominated for an NAACP Image Award, and has been picked up by PBS to broadcast as part of their upcoming “Reel South” documentary series.
These accolades are in no small part due to the generosity of the family members who shared their stories, the backing of attorney Crump, and the community effort that made this project possible. The film team applied for grants throughout the country, but ultimately the support came from their own backyard. John noted that the film was funded and crewed almost entirely by locals.
“I am very proud of that fact too — that we were able to make this film because people here believed in it.” he said.
“I hope people understand that these things are possible here in the South. If there’s some great effect I could possibly hope for from making a film here, it’s someone feeling like they can also make a film here about whatever they’re passionate about.”
The filmmakers emphasize that there is no shortage of accounts of courage and justice being lost to time.
Tiffany encourages folks to be attentive to the stories in their communities: “Hold on to those thoughts that won’t let go of you. Write them down, do research, talk to your friends about it. Talk about it to people you respect and love just to see what they think.” Whether the result is an article, film, song, public art or some other recording, it’s possible that someone in the community has been waiting for the story to be shared.
“Be ready to work long and hard. History isn’t easy,” Rita said. “Use all the resources at your fingertips: books, newspaper articles, microfiche, historical markers, librarians (they’re your best friends) and any available contacts or descendants who are willing to speak with you. Make meticulous notes, document when and where you found your sources, make a timeline and don’t be shy about asking for help.” For film documentarians tackling sensitive subjects, there are organizations that offer pro bono consulting services. Finally, Rita added, “Give it your all. Enjoy the ride.”
How to Sue the Klan is produced by Emmy-nominated director John Beder, civil rights attorney Benjamin L. Crump, Cameron S. Mitchell and Raji Ramanathan. Visit www.thecivilcase.com or email civilcasefilm@gmail.com to bring the film to your community.
Author has opted to remain anonymous
